


The First Law

by DarthNickels



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Food, Food Issues, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Misunderstandings, Natsumes awful childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthNickels/pseuds/DarthNickels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world of humans is vastly different from the world of the spirits, and sometimes serious miscommunications occur. Naturally, Natsume finds himself directly in the middle of an enormous one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Law

The story filtered its way through Yatsuhara forest, like sunlight reaching between the leaves to find the earth. The wind carried their whispers from tree to den, across streams and into caves.

_Natsume—yes, that Natsume…_

_\--with the Book of Friends-_

_Did you hear?_

_\--Unacceptable,_ never _in my years—_

_We have to do something, obviously…_

_Natsume…_

* * *

 

 

It began as a misunderstanding. 

                “Thank you,” Natsume said, pushing his chair back. “That was a wonderful meal.” He smiled, and really meant it. Not everybody was as lucky as he was. There were plenty of places without warm food—and more still without warm people. He knew that better than most, and really was grateful for what the Fujiwaras had given him.

                But Toko-san’s face creased with worry, and his heart sank.

                “Takashi-kun,” she began, carefully. “Are you _sure_ you had enough?” She must have sensed his distress (he was _slipping_ ), because she quickly added, “if you had enough, that’s alright, but at your age I just worry…”

                “Do you ever do anything else?” Shigeru-san cut in, fondly. Toko-san went a little pink, while her husband took a sip of his beer. Shigeru-san never had more than one drink at dinner. Natsume liked that. It was—reliable.

                “Takashi-kun is a teenage boy,” she pressed on. “I just want to be _sure_ …”She looked at him with concern, and Natsume felt a curl of anxiety in his belly. None of his choices looked good:

 If he said no, he’d worry Toko-san—unacceptable.

 If he took more but didn’t eat it all he would hurt Toko-san’s feelings—equally unacceptable.

If he said yes, and took more than was Allowed (by whom, he couldn’t say) then he risked becoming a Burden—he wouldn’t be sent away, not by the Fujiwaras, but there were _rules_. He couldn’t just-

His thoughts were broken by the weight of a small (but _heavy_ ) paw on his toes. _Sensei_. Natusme smiled once again.

                “I guess I could have a little more…”

                Toko-san smiled, and smiled even more brightly when he returned his empty bowl to her once again—never noticing how a majority of the food made it into the maw of her charge’s ugly cat.

* * *

 

                Later, Natsume looked up from his homework and saw his sensei gazing at him over a sake cup, lost in thought. It was unusual for Nyanko-sensei to have something on his mind and not immediately blurt it out.

                After a few more moments, he broke the silence: “You remember that particularly vile yokai I saved you from,” he said, lazily swirling his drink.

                “You will have to more specific, Sensei,” Natsume replied, indulgently. But for once, Nyanko-sensei wasn’t looking to have his ego stroked.

                “You remember. She followed you here from another city, where you had sealed her, intent on your capture.”

                Ah, yes. Natsume did remember. He would have preferred not to.

                “What about her?” he asked, cautiously.

                Nyanko-sensei took a long drink, delicately balancing his cup on the pads of his paw. He looked over at Natsume, expression unreadable.

                “In your dreams, she said that the humans you were staying with refused to feed you,” he said, almost idly.

                Natsume gave a half-shrug.

                Nyanko-sensei put his cup aside and waddled across the desk, plopping himself directly on top of Natsume’s math homework. He said nothing, but looked up expectantly. Takashi huffed, irritated.

                “It was a long time ago.”

                “You humans don’t know the meaning of those words,” Sensei shot back, but his words didn’t have any bite. Natsume didn’t answer. Instead, he reached up and started scratching the lucky cat behind the ears.

                After about ten minutes of scritches, Nyanko-sensei stood, apparently ready to relinquish the schoolwork, but paused.

                “Your dreams can be dark, Natsume,” he said, pointedly.

                “Then don’t peek,” Takashi retorted, a little too quickly.

                They were interrupted by a rap at the window, and a small voice crying “Is the bearer of the Book of Friends here? I’d like my name back, please!”

                Nyanko-sensei screeched in agitation at his prize losing yet _another_ name, but Natsume ignored him and slid the window open.

* * *

 

                Later, beneath a three quarters moon, that same yokai (who was called Mujina) sat on a sturdy tree limb, brow furrowed. The sea of trees was quiet and still, painted with silver gilt from the moonlight, but Mujina saw none of it. She was intent on unraveling the conversation she’d overheard while lurking outside the window.

                “Oi! Mujina!” a hairy yokai called, jumping excitedly at the base of the tree. “How did it go? Did you get your name back?!”

                “Hyosube!” she called, happily, scampering down the trunk of her tree. “It was just like you said! This Natsume is not at all like Reiko.”

                “Reiko was frightening and strange, even for a human,” Hyosube nodded, understanding. “What was it like, being in a human house?”

                “Amazing!” Mujina paused, frowning. “Natsume, though-- he is strange, in his own way.”

                “Oh? What makes you say—“ Hyosube paused, then struck like a snake, pulling a tiny green figure from a nearby bush.

                “Forgive me, there was a very _rude_ kappa eavesdropping on our conversation!” he declared, glaring at his prisoner. The captive kappa squeaked, struggling for freedom.

                “Sorry! Sorry! Let me go! You were talking about Natsume! He’s my friend!”

                “Oh?” Mujina cocked her head. “Do you know Natsume?” Hyosube dropped the kappa, who landed with another squeak. “Then tell us—why does he live with humans who don’t give him enough to eat?”

                “What?!” the kappa cried, outraged. “Natsume—who told you that?!” Even Hyosube looked perturbed at the idea.

                Mujina shrugged. “It was the fat white dumpling that was with him. I overheard them talking- he said the other humans didn’t feed him.”

                “That can’t be right!”

                “I heard it! I was outside the glass but I heard voices and waited. That yokai said exactly this Natsume:  ‘they refused to feed you’!”

                “What’s this?” a gravelly voice broke through the din. “Did you say Natsume? The one who holds the Book of Friends?”

                “I did, in fact, say ‘Natsume’, the very same that holds the Book of Friends,” Mujina cocked her head. “Wairu, perhaps you can tell us—“

                “ _I_ can tell you! I _know_ Natsume!”

                “Be _quiet_ , little kappa, no one is talking to you-”

                “Natsume?” Wairu cocked his large head. “If this is a question about Natsume, the Chukyuu should be able to clear it up immediately.”

                “No, do NOT bring the Chukyuu into this—“ but before they could protest, Wairu vanished, only to reappear moments later with the two mid-level yokai in tow.

                “We heard you lowly ones had questions about the great Natsume-sama!” the green one proclaimed, preening under the attention. “Natsume-sama, Natsume-sama,” his bovine companion added, nodding.

                “Fine,” Mujina, shouted, over what was becoming a very rowdy forest clearing, “ _you_ tell us—why does Natsume, who possesses such great spiritual power, dwell in a house where he is hungry?” 

                “Wha-a-at?” the Chukyuu exclaimed, as one. Mujina fought the urge to roll her eyes. “What makes you think that!?”

                “I heard the angry calico meat bun that was with him say so.”

                “Madara-sama says so? This is a _crisis_!”

                “A crisis, a crisis—“

                “ _None_ of you have answered my question--”

                Other yokai had begun trickling into the clearing, drawn by the midnight ruckus, and now they murmured amongst themselves, turning over this new information.

                “Natsume? Is it true?”

                “He is always very pale…”

                “Some humans are like that, though.”

                “I have heard it said that Natsume is small for a human –“

                “Too small-”

                “Frail-”

                “But wait,” Hyosube interrupted. “Just how big are humans supposed to be?” For a moment, there was a thoughtful silence among the yokai. No one could say for certain.

                “Well, how big was Reiko?” All eyes turned to Mujina, who squinted, thinking hard. It had been many years.

                Mujina picked out a sapling that stood about seven feet. “This tall,” she declared, then reconsidered. “Perhaps slightly larger.”

                Shocked murmurs ran through the crowd. Natsume was _much_ smaller than that! Perhaps he _was_ starving!

                “But many yokai have invited Natsume to dwell amongst us, here in Yatsuhara forest!” a voice cried out. “Why would he stay in the world of the humans when they have clearly neglected him so?”

“When did Chobihige get here?” someone groaned, but he raised a fair point.

“Perhaps the humans have fallen on hard times, and he is being subjected to rations?” one yokai suggested.

“Perhaps Madara has eaten all the humans’ food and left none for Natsume!” Another piped up. The crowd murmured in agreement- that was a _very_ likely scenario (though not at all what Mujina had first reported).

 “People!” a tiny voice cried, and a hush fell over the clearing. It was the little kappa, grim and resolute. “That’s not important! What’s important is that we _have_ to help Natsume!”

The crowd shifted, agitated, and one yokai shouted “Help a human? Why should we?”

“Stupid! This isn’t any old human! This is _Natsume_.” The kappa shook a webbed finger, scolding. “Who here hasn’t _ever_ been helped by Natsume?!”

There was a chastened scuffling of feet. Everyone there knew the strange, sad human. True, some had only glimpsed him from far away, but they all knew of his exploits, how he had done battle with both cannibal yokai and cruel exorcists. He wielded terrible power, but only when he had to. Natsume was simply not a human they could ignore.

The sudden quiet of the clearing was cut by a rush of wind and the soft chime of bells.

“So, little speck,” a Misuzu’s voice boomed across the clearing. “What do _you_ think should be done?”

The kappa squeaked in terror, but gathered his courage.

“If Natsume won’t come to the forest, where he’d be fed,” he started, his voice trembling, “then the forest will just have to come to him!”

* * *

 

The next day at school _began_ uneventfully. Natsume had forgotten all about his conversation with Nyanko-sensei the night before, and instead his attention was focused on the strange yokai wandering the grounds. Well, perhaps not _strange_ —it was definitely a local, there was no way he could have forgotten the dog-head or those paws peeking out from silk sleeves. He’d seen this one before in passing, either glimpsed it at a festival or between the trees.

Its presence on campus _was_ unusual, though. While he hadn’t expressly forbidden any yokai from venturing into human-populated areas, the spirits of Yatsuhara generally gave a wide berth to those places he was known to frequent out of respect for him.

But lunchtime rolled around without any untoward actions taken by the stranger, so Natsume was ready to shrug it off.

That, of course, was _always_ a mistake.

“Natsume, you have such a beautiful lunch!” Nishimura whined, eyes sparkling.  Natsume smiled indulgently, for whatever reason this was his friend’s favorite game. “Won’t you give a humble student like me some omelet?”

“Humble? Nishimura, are you trying to make me choke?”

“Natsu _me_ ,” Nishimura moaned, while Kitamoto snorted. “Remember what we have endured together! Share with me, in remembrance of that time in English grammar--”

Natsume grinned, now fully engaged in playing keep-away with his friend while Kitamoto shouted encouragement.  It was simple- stupid, even- -the kind of interaction he’d envied when he was younger.

“Give me some omelet!” Nishimura wheedled, dancing in and out of reach. “Don’t be stingy--”

It happened fast. Natsume saw the dog-headed yokai appear over Nishimura’s shoulder and _push_. Before he could cry out in warning, Nishimura hit the ground like a load of bricks.

Kitamoto doubled over, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. “D-dunce! Idiot! How do you trip over _nothing_?!”

 Natsume rushed to his friend’s side, but Nishimura was already getting up, rubbing his cheek ruefully. “Ah! Trickery! But who-“ he turned, and his face fell. To him, there was nobody there.

“I was sure I was pushed…”

This made Kitamoto howl, but Natsume looked up at the assailant. The dog-headed yokai met his gaze, solemnly, raising a hand—

Then flashed Natsume a solemn thumbs-up before vanishing.

“Natsume?” Nishimura called, brushing dirt off his uniform. “I’m alright, you know. Jeez, you’re pale! You don’t have to worry _so_ hard…”

“You couldn’t crack open Nishimura’s head with a jackhammer,” Kitamoto remarked, drily.

“Hey! At least Natsume came to see if I was OK, you were just going to laugh at me!”

Nishimura settled back into both his seat and his argument like nothing happened, but Natsume was subdued for the rest of the day.

* * *

 

 The walk home from school was stranger still.

Natsume was retreading old thoughts, turning them over and over in his head. He knew he was walking a thin line, trying to live in the human world while keeping in touch with the yokai. Some people knew the risks, like Taki and Tanuma, and they wouldn’t leave him for the safety of a world without spirits, no matter how he tried to convince them to do so. But Nishimura…the Fujiwaras…was he putting them in danger, as well…

He was so lost in thought he didn’t even notice the tengu in front of him until he almost collided with it.

“Sorry!” he shouted, leaping back. Strangely, the tengu didn’t seem perturbed at all. In fact, it was more like it had just been waiting there, for Natsume to notice…

The thin, birdlike yokai grabbed Natsume’s wrist in an iron grip and set off for the forest.

“Hey! Hey, I said I was sorry! Wait—“

Natsume threw up his free arm to shield him from the branches whipping towards his face. He hadn’t offended a yokai like this in a long time. Where were they _going_? Where was Sensei when he really _needed_ a bodyguard—?

They stumbled to a halt at the edge of a meadow, and Natsume blinked in surprise. There was a whole crowd of yokai assembled before them, in what looked like…well, a _picnic_.

Just what was going on here?

“Natsume!” the assembled yokai called, gleefully. There was a tug on his jacket and immediately he was led to a seat of honor, close to the middle of the assembled blankets and dishes.

“—so glad you’re here-“

“—just for you-“

“—come on, sit down, sit down-“

After being jostled into position, Natsume fell back onto the ground with a soft thump.

“Um,” he started, delicately. “What...is going on?”

“It’s a party, Natsume!” one of the crowd piped up. He looked like a human, except he stood only two feet tall and wore a red mask. “You’re invited!”

“Yes, but…what for?”

“What?”

“ _Why_ …are you having a party?”

The slight tension in the atmosphere increased. The tengu who’d brought him here shot a glance at the masked yokai.

“For, ah…for you!”

Unfortunately, another yokai had chosen that exact moment to scream out “The moon!”. Natsume was more confused than ever.

“It’s a party…for me…and the moon?”

“Yes!” the masked yokai answered, a little too quickly. “The moon…its, um…its in a fortuitous place for you!”

The assembled crowd burst into shouts of agreement. “Very fortuitous…wouldn’t do to miss it..lots of good things…”

Natsume had never heard of such a thing- but then, there’s so much he doesn’t know about the world the yokai live in. One by one, took in the faces of the yokai gathered before him. They watched him in turn, looking expectant, waiting for something.

They were only trying to be kind to him, in their own way. Natsume smiled at that; it was small but genuine.

The tension broke, like a held breath suddenly released. The assembled yokai began to chatter amiably, unveiling neatly arranged plates of food. There was real warmth here, but also a strange undercurrent of something else—Natsume couldn’t help but notice the furtive glances thrown his way, the way each partygoer was pretending to be socializing genuinely while still keeping an eye on him.

Naturally, a sake cup was shoved into Natsume’s hand.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t-“

“Of course you can,” the fox-masked yokai said encouragingly.

“No, I mean, the humans-“

Again, that thread of tension arose in the crowd. “You can’t even drink sake?” a snakelike woman asked, outraged.

“It’s not like that,” Natsume replied, quickly. He held his hands up for peace. “I’m too young. There are laws…”

“But sake is _good_ for you!” the small red-masked yokai exploded. There outburst was so genuine, such a heartfelt expression of indignation on Takashi’s behalf that he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Sorry, but thank you for offering,” he said, trying to be diplomatic. “I hope one day I can accept.”

Natsume heard a rustling behind him, perilously near his bag (and more importantly, the Book of Friends), but when he whipped around he only saw the little kappa, waving cheerily.

He turned back, and was confronted by the snake woman. He was tempted to describe her expression as maternal, which was not an expression he thought snake faces could have.

She locked eyes with him and then, without warning, shoved a rice ball into his mouth.

Natsume let out a muffled “mmmph!” of surprise, desperately trying not to choke, but at the same time reluctant to spit the food back out. The gathered yokai were watching his face with a scrutiny that made him deeply uncomfortable.

It was a close thing, but he managed to chew and swallow the rice ball down without mishap. The yokai were still quiet, waiting for him to say something.

“Its…uhm…good?” He finally settled on. “Really tasty.”

The snake woman readied another rice ball. “Ah! No, I, uh, I can take it from her, thanks,” he said, grabbing it from her hand and taking a delicate bite. It really was delicious; he just wasn’t sure why it had to be jammed down his throat.

That reaction seemed to be exactly what the yokai wanted, and the lingering strain gave way to a true party atmosphere at last. Unfortunately for Natsume, this meant there were suddenly four or five new trays of food being shoved under his nose, each with an owner vying for his attention. Inwardly, he sighed in defeat.

* * *

 

“I’m home,” Natsume announced, weakly. The yokai’s moon party (or whatever it was) had been exhausting, in its own way, even without spirits breaking out into fistfights over whether or not he ate their food. He felt like he’d never need to eat again. The meal he’d been subjected had been monstrously decadent, something more suited for his sensei than himself.

Speaking of…

“Where have you been?” Nyako-sensei demanded, hopping up on Natsume’s shoulder and hissing in his ear.

“Trapped by crazy spirits, trying to escape- with no help from my _bodyguard_ ,” Natsume hissed back, bending over to untie his shoes. “Where were _you_?”

“It’s not my fault you let yourself get pushed around by weaklings and wimps when you _should_ be—“

“Takashi-kun!” Toko-san’s voice broke through their argument. “You ran a little late today! Did you decide to take a walk?”

“Ah-” Natsume started, feeling the same tendril of guilt he did every time he lied to the Fujiwaras about his whereabouts. This time, however, the lie was even bigger than he knew. Toko-san was briefly distracted by his muddy shoes. She tsked and picked them up, sliding open the door with her free hand, but stopped cold at a package on the doorstep.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Is this for me?” Dropping the shoes, she picked up a large wicker basket—one that _certainly_ hadn’t been there when Natsume came in. It was filled to the brim with huge, vibrant vegetables: cabbage heads, radishes, spinach, leeks, carrots, onions, cucumbers, and others. They were plump, sparkling with the slightest sheen of dew. They looked amazing.

But Natsume had no idea where they came from. He paled.

“They’re _gorgeous_!” Toko-san crooned, smiling down at her bounty. “Were you at the farmer’s market? I’d heard there was one, but I haven’t had a chance to go—oh, this is so thoughtful! I hope you didn’t spend your allowance on this?”

“I, uh,” Natsume managed to get out, before Toko-san swept him up in a hug.

“You’re too sweet! You should think of yourself more often,” she mock-scolded. Takashi smiled, but he felt like a liar.

He _was_ a liar.

“You go relax. I’ll put these to good use!” She smiled again, somehow managing to heft the basket while shooing him upstairs.

“What was _that_ about?” Sensei asked, once they reached the safety of Natsume’s room. “Did you give some other weakling his name back?!”

“No, I told you, I was trapped at the moon party,” Natsume answered, irritably. “Are those vegetables safe, if a yokai brought them?”

“Of course they’re safe! It’s my dinner too, you know”. Nyanko-sensei began grooming his paw, irritated. After a few licks something occurred to him, and he paused.

“What the hell is a moon party?”

Natsume froze. “The yokai said it was a fortuitous moon for me,” he answered, slowly.

“Utter nonsense.” There was a note of unease in sensei’s voice. “You’d better tell me what happened.”

Natsume started with his altercation with the tengu, recounting the past hour at the mercy of the partygoers. When he described eating the rice ball he was rewarded by a full-body blow to the jaw from Nyanko-sensei.

“You idiot!” the lucky cat snarled, “you—you _child_! Why would you _ever_ take anything from a strange yokai!?”

Natsume wanted to protest that they weren’t strange; he was pretty sure he’d met most of them. But he knew a scolding couldn’t be avoided now, and instead he muttered “the kappa was there” before falling silent. Nyanko-sensei, having knocked his charge to the ground with his mighty blow, proceeded to examine Natsume carefully. He prodded, sniffed delicately, even listened to Natsume’s heartbeat for a few moments.

“Well,” he said, sitting back on his haunches. “You don’t seem poisoned or transformed in any way-”

“ _Transformed_ \--!”

“- _even though_ you would deserve it if you were.” Nyanko-sensei went on, castigation undeterred. “As far as I can tell, some idiot yokai lured an idiot human to their idiot party so he could sample their idiot rice balls. Bizarre, but stupidity isn’t lethal. _Yet_.”

Natsume huffed, but let it be.

“I just don’t understand _why_ ,” he said, letting out a sigh. “None of this makes any sense.”

“Even for spirits, it is strange,” Nyanko-sensei agreed. “However, there is a more pressing question.” Natsume looked over, and saw his bodyguard’s hair was on end.

“ _What the hell did you put in your bag_?!”

Natsume’s eyes widened in horror. His schoolbag had begun bulging and shaking—like there was something _wriggling_ inside. He approached it, cautiously, praying that this was some kind of prank and not _another_ curse—

“Careful, there’s some kind of seal on it-”

But Natsume didn’t have any patience left for seals. He tore the zipper open, ready for whatever dark energy would emerge…

Only to be slapped in the face by the tail of a very, _very_ live salmon. 

For a moment, Natsume was speechless. He stared at the floor, where the salmon flopped, gasping for air. He peered back into his bag, which had a few smaller fish and what looked like a pair of eels. He looked at the floor.

“I…the kappa,” he said, dazed. “The kappa…filled my bag…with fish?”

Nyanko-sensei, no help at all, broke into peals of raucous laughter.

* * *

 

That night, the story spread even further, reaching the very edges of the forest. The ayakashi gathered to whisper amongst themselves about the news. Even some of the older spirits shook their heads at the senseless cruelty of humans.

But even as they tut-tutted, they couldn’t hide the thrill of what was happening. For the first time in perhaps a century, yokai were acting on the human world en masse- acting together. It was bold and daring and _new_ , like so many things that involved Natsume Takashi. The boy was not like his grandmother

Reiko never needed so much looking-after.

* * *

 

Natsume prayed the next day at school would go more smoothly-- but if any god heard his pleas they ignored him.  His bag still _reeked_ of fish, and he spent all morning dodging curious sniffs. The smell had abated slightly by lunch and things seemed like they back to normal.

 Seemed like it, anyways. When he returned to his classroom he found a massive earthenware jar sitting on his desk. The jar was about a third of his height, a foot in circumference, and surrounded by curious onlookers.

“Natsume, what _is_ this?”

“What have you got in here, it’s _massive_ -“

“Uhm…” Natsume fought to keep his panic down. He had no idea what was in that jar. It could be anything: spiders, pinecones, a sealed yokai- if he was lucky. If he wasn’t, there could some kind of malevolent spirit, ready to devour his classmates right before his eyes…

“Oi!” Kitamoto shouted, gleefully. Natsume watched in horror as the world slowed down, his friend’s hand inexorably reaching towards the lid of the mysterious jar and pulling it away to reveal—

“Pickles!” Kitamoto exclaimed happily. “You can be really old-fashioned, Natsume!” Kitamoto popped one in his mouth, chewing blissfully.

“And you’re _really good_ at pickling! Wow!”

Natsume leaned over the mouth of the jar. Pickles. More pickled vegetables than he’d ever seen in one place, and maybe his entire life.

_Why_.

His classmates didn’t seem to notice how close to a nervous breakdown he was; they were now totally absorbed in consuming the mystery pickles. Nishimura was the pushiest, claiming “seniority” over the other students. Natsume tried to think of what he could have done to invite this kind of lunacy into his already-strange life.

 He had no idea.

His only consolation was that, when the teacher arrived, he managed to dodge a potential scolding about distracting the class and bringing in unauthorized food with a diplomatic offering of pickles.

* * *

 

_“Stop! Wait!” he cried, pushing people out of his way. There she was, her face pinched and sad, holding a suitcase and ready to get in the taxi. She withdrew, turning to face him- one last time._

_They stood together on the crowded street. He had found her, finally, before she could leave for her flight to Paris. Their eyes met, and he took her arm. He stared deeply into her eyes._

_“You are precious to me,” he said, with unblinking intensity. “More precious than **anything** I could ever dream of…”_

_Her lashes fluttered, and they moved closer, their lips just brushing—_

“Cut! That’s great! Take five, Shuuichi!”

Natori shook off the role (a passionate young fashion designer in love with a model out of league) easily, allowing a PA to hand him his glasses. He gave a dazzling (but fake) smile to his co-star (who seemed just as enamored with him off-camera) before excusing himself. The call for a break came not a moment too soon; any longer and he ran the risk of cracking his façade.

Hiiragi had been hovering at the edges of the set for the past 15 minutes, the empty gaze of her mask turned towards him. He’d almost compromised his performance and his reputation, watching her out of the corner of his eye. His shiki _never_ came to him while he was working- his lives as an actor and an exorcist had to stay separate at all costs.

Unless there was an emergency…                                             

Natori put his cell phone to his ear, pretending to look at nothing in particular. Ideally, it would appear to everyone else he was having quick phone call, not a supernatural encounter. “What is it?” he asked, curtly.

Hiiragi didn’t answer immediately. She tilted her head, as if weighing her words carefully. The cyclops-masked yokai was taciturn by nature, but it wasn’t like her to hesitate. Not a life-threatening issue, then.

But something that made Hiiragi hesitate couldn’t be good.

 “I heard a rumor out of Yatsuhara,” she started, slowly. Her words were cool, as usual, but there was something lurking beneath—emotion pushed just below the surface.

“Oh? A rumor?”

“It’s about Natsume.”

Natori’s eyes flashed, and his grip on his phone tightened.

“Is he in danger?”

Hiiragi paused again, like she was gathering strength.

“Not from a yokai.”

Natori was taken aback by the quiet fury underlying her words. Then, when he realized their implication, felt it tenfold.

“I’ll tell the director it’s an emergency. If we leave now we’ll be there in a matter of hours. You can explain along the way.”

* * *

 

Natsume straightened with a groan, panting and wiping sweat out of his eyes. Even with a significant portion of the contents eaten by his classmates, the pickle jar was heavy. He’d managed to haul the enormous thing home by himself—but only just. He had no idea how to explain it to the Fujiwaras (especially when _he_ didn’t understand what was going on), so he made sure the seal was tight and rolled the container beneath the house.

“Takashi-kun, is that you?” he heard a call from just inside the house. The door slid open to reveal  Shigeru-san. His guardian gave him a small, secretive smile and asked, with a hint of mischief in his voice: “ _Just now_ getting home from school?”

“Uh…” Natsume stammered. He suppressed a groan when Shigeru pulled the door wider, and held up a small wicker basket.

“I’m not sure where you even found matsutake at this time of year,” Shigeru-san said, “but Toko-san will love them. Just don’t tell her you were out picking mushrooms during school!” He winked.

“Wha—no! I wasn’t…”

“Oh, it’s alright,” his guardian said, laying a hand on Natsume’s shoulder. “I was a teenager too, once. A little mischief is healthy. Though,” and his eyes crinkled with a kind of warmth that made Natsume’s stomach drop, “if the most mischief you get up to is picking mushrooms for your elders…”

Shigeru paused, taken aback by how anguished Natsume looked. “It really is OK,” he said, in a softer tone. “Obviously, Toko-san and I don’t want you to skip school, but we won’t—we just want you to be able to relax, sometimes.”

“Yes, sir,” Natsume answered, immediately. If he said anything else, the truth might burst out of him like a torrential rain.

Shigeru-san smiled again, but it was a little sad this time. He gave Natsume a gentle pat before heading back into the house. Takashi followed, trudging up the stairs into his room.

Things were starting to unravel. He’d get to the bottom of this, _today_.

* * *

 

“Sensei,” he grated, sliding the door to his room slightly harder than was necessary, “is there something strange going on with the yokai?”

Nyanko-sensei flicked an ear, idly, then rolled over to consider. “Most spirits around here are as easily excitable as they are weak,” he drawled. “I _have_ noticed them flitting about, pretending to be _secretive_ … but why I couldn’t say.”

“We need to find out, before this gets out of hand.”

“Before what gets out of hand?”

Before Natsume could answer, he noticed his closed door was slightly ajar. Without thinking, he crossed the room to open it-

Plums. His entire closet with _filled_ with plums. They spilled out of his closet and rolled across the floor, scattering to all corners of his room. It took everything Natsume had not to scream with frustration. It took even more effort not to succumb to despair. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, just barely keeping his voice steady:

“ _This_! These—things! They- the yokai, _whoever_ \-- left something for me at school, today, too—like the vegetables yesterday. Today it was pickles, and mushrooms, and-” Natsume cut himself off with a worldless noise of defeat. Sensei must have been feeling charitable, because he said nothing. Takashi took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

I can’t- it’s not a _bad_ thing, exactly. They’re not hurting anyone, but…” Natsume flopped down on his futon, frustrated. “I just don’t _get_ it.”

“It almost seems like they’re leaving you offerings,” Sensei remarked, thoughtfully, nibbling a plum. “Natsume, have you impersonated a deity recently?”

“What? _No_!”

“Well, why not? I like plums, I like salmon, I _love_ matsutake. Keep them coming!”

“Sensei!” Natsume snapped. “This isn’t a joke!” he rolled back onto his feet, pacing across the room.

Nyanko-sensei tilted his head back. “But it’s hardly a crisis.”

“Toko-san and Shigeru-san suspect something!”

“But that’s not why you’re upset,” the yokai fired back, coolly.

Natsume glared at him, but Sensei met his gaze expectantly. Takashi gave in and dropped his eyes to the floor.

Sensei was right. It wasn’t _just_ that the Fujiwaras almost caught him in a lie- though he _hated_ lying to them. It was the carefully segregated halves of his life coming together, rubbing against each other like tectonic plates. It was the fact that whenever the worlds of human and yokai met, it was Natsume who had to give something up trying to set things right. No matter how innocently it began, it always ended with pain.

It was the voice whispering in the back of his mind that no one, human or yokai, gave _anything_ for free. There was always a cost…

                “You’re an idiot and a fool,” Nyanko-sensei declared, interrupting _that_ train of thought. “But if you _really_ hate getting presents, I’ll see what I can find out from the spirits at the moon viewing tonight.”

                Despite the insults, Natsume felt a surge of warmth in his chest. “Thank you, Sensei.”

                “Oh no! Don’t thank me! You _owe_ me! Just because you hate free food doesn’t mean I’m getting going hungry!”

                Natsume opened his mouth, ready to tease Sensei (you’re already plum shaped, if ate anymore you might turn purple), when Toko-san called from downstairs.

“Takashi-kun? Could you come down here ,please…?”

                There was something in her voice that made Natsume’s stomach twist with anxiety. “Yes ma’am!” he called. Without thinking, he gathered Nyako-sensei up in his arms before heading downstairs. Later, when the commotion died down, Natsume would get an earful on treating such a noble vessel like a stuffed toy.

                 Toko-san and Shigeru-san sat at the kitchen table, both of their faces etched with concern. Natsume almost groaned aloud when he saw why. Between them sat an earthenware jug, with “sake” written on it in bold, damning characters.

                Sensei squirmed, but whether it was in a fit of greed or because Natsume reflexively squeezed him tight was unclear.

                “We don’t want to jump to any conclusions, Toko-san started, slowly. Her brow creased in a way that made Natusme feel like he might die from guilt. “We’re just hoping you’ll give us an explanation.”

                This was like a nightmare. Natsume wanted to scream, or run, or sink into the floor and never come back to the surface again. He was worse than a liar, he was a _traitor_ \- how thoroughly he’d betrayed the trust of these people!

                He’d tell them the truth. He’d tell the truth, and then he’d go upstairs and pack his bags, because that was the only thing left to do. He wouldn’t impose on these people anymore; not that he could bear to, with the shame in his heart. He really was a cursed child…

                But then, before Natsume could even open his mouth, Natori burst in the front door like a vengeful thundercloud, flanked by his three shiki. His eyes flashed and his mouth was set in a hard line—worlds away from the charming teen-heartthrob act he normally put on. Even Sasago (whose eyes were masked) and Urihime (who usually betrayed very little emotion on her own) seemed incensed. Hiiragi’s hand hovered above her sword in a way Natsume found deeply disturbing.

                Maybe this _was_ a nighmare. It was too bizarre to be actually happening.

                Natori took in the scene before them in an instant, and with all the skill of a truly gifted actor, began to improvise.

                “Ah, Natsume-kun, thank you,” he said, before the Fujiwaras had a chance to speak. “I asked Natsume to hold this gift for my girlfriend; she’s a true connoisseur of fine beverages, there’s no way she wouldn’t find it if I hid it in my apartment.”

He snatched the jug off the table and offered one of his most dazzling smiles. Only Natsume, who knew the actor and exorcist personally, could see the falseness in it, the tightness in the corners of his eyes.  “If I could have a word?” he asked, with more false politeness. Shigeru-san looked like he had questions ( _Aren’t you the actor Natori Shuuichi? Did you just break into my house?_ ) and Toko-san looked like she had some serious objections, but Natori grabbed Natsume by the shoulder and dragged him outside before they could be voiced. He didn’t stop until the two of them stood outside the Fujiwara’s gate.

“Why do you have this,” he asked, his voice low. “Are you drinking? I would understand if you were—“

“ _What_? No!” Natsume managed to blurt out, stunned. Was everyone _insane_?

                Natori seemed to calm down a little, but there was still something sharp in his gaze. “You can be honest with me,” he said, quietly. “You don’t have to keep these things hidden.”

                Natsume felt a hot surge of fear. He couldn’t imagine what Natori was talking about- unless it was the Book of Friends. Was the book powerful enough to cause a usually mild-mannered exorcist to burst into his house, unannounced, and drag him out?

                “You don’t have to stay here if it makes you this miserable,” Natori said, shaking the jug. “You know you would be welcome to stay with me—and not in my apartment, there’s room at the clan headquarters…”

                “Uhm, no thank you,” Natsume managed to cut in, bewildered. “I’m actually very happy right-”

                Natori looked _mournful_. Behind him Sasago shook her head, and even Urihime had a softness to her expression. Hiiragi appeared behind Natsume and laid a hand on his shoulder.

                “Natsume,” Natori said, gently. “We know that your foster parents are neglecting you.”

                “ _WHAT_?!” The question exploded out of his throat with a fury Natsume didn’t now he possessed. “How—why--? That’s just not _true_!”

                “All of Yatsuhara Forest knows it,” Hiiragi said behind him, gravely. “They heard it from Madara-sama.”

                “ _What_? Sensei?!” Natsume looked down at the not-cat in his arms, who had frozen in shock at the words, his fur standing straight on end. There was a brief pause where no one spoke, and then:

                “You… _idiots_ ,” Madara grated. His voice was pitched low, but it rumbled in Natsume’s chest. “When we don’t…have an audience…I am going…to _eat you_ …” he forced out, between gritted teeth. Natsume and Natori both looked over to see the Fujiwaras standing in the front door—out of earshot, but watching the two of them carefully. “You and _every single_ _stupid weakling,_ starting with that eavesdropping badger…”

                And then Natsume saw clearly—all the puzzle pieces from the last two days unscrambled themselves and clicked together, revealing a clear picture. He dropped Nyanko-sensei (who squalled in protest) and put his face in his hands.

                “Oh— _oh_ ,”  he said, weakly. “This…is an _unbelievable_ misunderstanding.”

                He looked up at Natori, who was watching him patiently (though now he was fairly confused as well). Nastume took a deep breath. He would have to give up some of his secrets—but in a strange way, he felt ready to do so.

                “The other night, a yokai came to my room,” he started, slowly. “She wanted me to return- something I picked up in the forest,” he ad-libbed, catching the slip quickly. Natori raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

                “Sensei…met another yokai recently. One that new me from before, when…” he paused, licking his lips. “When I lived with people who were…they didn’t want me, like Toko-san and Shigeru-san did. He was asking me questions, and I guess this spirit overheard…”

                “And misunderstood,” Natori finished, with a groan. “Some yokai live so long they have trouble distinguishing between what happened in the past and what’s happening now.” He rubbed his own temple. “Ah, I suppose I seemed… _very_ aggressive earlier. Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Natsume.”

                Then, without warning, the exorcist pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, pressing the smaller boy’s head against his chest. “But I’m not sorry for coming to get you,” he said, fiercely. Natsume felt his throat tighten, and wasn’t able to respond.

“You know I would come to your side if you called?” Natori asked, when he finally let him go. “I’d only be a couple hours behind Hiiragi and the others. She’s the one who told me, you know.”

Natsume smiled softly at that, looking up at the masked yokai beside him. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. “I’m glad…” _I’m glad you cared_ , is what he thought, but wasn’t able to say.

“I am ready to hunt down your previous caretakers, if you so wish,” she told him, with a hard edge to her words. Hiiragi was still a mountain guardian in her heart, and had very traditional ideas about justice.

“No! I mean, no thank you,” Natsume said quickly.  “It’s over.” He looked up at the people before him, human and yokai. “I’m fine now.”

Natori raised an eyebrow and looked down at Natsume’s bodyguard. “Is he?”

“No.”

“ _Sensei_!”

 “Hey,” Natori said, putting his hand back on Natsume’s shoulder. “It’s OK if you’re not, and it’s OK if you don’t want to _tell_ me you’re not. But,” he nodded towards the Fujiwaras, “you should tell them. They care about you.”

Natsume looked down. “It would upset them,” he mumbled.

“Of course it will,” Natsume glanced back up at that. “It will _devastate_ them. But they still would want you to tell them. A real guardian wants to be a part of their child’s life, even for the bad parts.”

For a few moments, no one said anything, and Natsume turned those words over in his mind. There was a rustle of wind in the trees, stirring Natsume’s hair. Finally, he asked, very softly:

“Will you come with me?”

Natori was startled by this question, but nodded. Natsume scooped up his sensei, and the shiki were offered a chance to go (which they politely declined). The six of them walked back to the house, where the Fujiwaras had been waiting the entire time.

“I think…” Natsume trailed off, uneasily. “There was…” he looked up at the faces of the kind couple who’d taken him in, cared for him, and now waited patiently for him to speak. He took a steadying breath.

“There was…a rumor, about me. About the people I used to live with,” he said. “And I think…it might be best…if you knew about it. And about, uhm, me, I guess. If that’s OK?” he added, anxiously.

Toko-san’s expression melted, and soon they were seated around the kitchen table, each human with a cup of tea. Once again they waited for him to be ready.

“Before you adopted me,” Natsume started, “I lived with people who were not…not as kind…”

* * *

 

True to what Natori said, Natsume’s story upset the Fujiwaras _greatly_. Toko-san cried, and even though she tried to restrain herself she had to interrupt the story mid-way through so she could hold Takashi close. Shigeru-san was white with rage, his lips pressed in a thin line. When Natsume finished, he pushed back his chair and announced he was calling the authorities on each and every one of his relatives. Natsume begged him not to, at which point Toko-san declared there was no need to get the police involved because she was going to deal with this matter _personally._ Natsume saw something under her tears that reminded him of Madara-sama: something fierce and wild, a sense of justice that was older than written law.

When he mentioned that to Sensei later, he remarked that the first law of the earth was hospitality, but refused to elaborate other than that. 

Natori gave a little help with calming them down, even though it was clear he very much agreed with the Fujiwaras. Natsume suspected the exorcist might look the other way if a yokai began making trouble for those relatives.

Doubly so if that yokai was Hiiragi.

They were reluctant, but soon both Natori and the Fujiwaras agreed to not pursue any kind of vengeance on Natsume’s behalf. Shigeru-san looked at him, his expression unreadable. Then he placed a hand on Natsume’s head.

“Will you be alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “What…do you _need_?” 

Natsume hesitated, confused. “Um, nothing. I’m fine.”

 “You’re allowed to need things.”

“I…the only thing I wanted was to live in a house like this,” Natsume murmured, eyes lowered. “With people…who _chose_ me.”

Toko-san looked dangerously close to tears again. “You’re allowed to want _more_ ,” she said, eyes wet.

Natsume looked back up, chewing his lower lip. Shigeru brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

“If you _do_ want more, will tell us?”

Natsume’s face broke into a genuine smile at that. “Yes,” he said. “I can do that.”

“Oh!” Toko-san exclaimed, shattering the hushed reverence of the moment. “Look at the time! I have to start making dinner _right now_.”

She looked straight at Natsume, like a woman with a mission. “And I’m going to—“ she paused. _I’m going to take care of you now_ , she wanted to say. _I want to make up for everything you ever lacked_ right now. _You won’t leave my table hungry_.

But instead, she asked “Is there anything special you’d like, Takashi-kun?”

“I like everything you cook,” he answered, automatically, and it was true, but Natori shot him a look, and he added, “but…maybe a hotpot would be nice?”

It was worth it to see Toko-san beam at him.

Natori shifted, reaching for his hat. “I had better be off-“ he started, before drawing the ire of Toko-san upon himself. “Absolutely not! Not before you’ve had anything to eat! It’s so rare that we get to meet some of Natsume’s friends…”

Natori looked a little horrified, but soon the sparkles were back out in full effect. Natsume shook his head ruefully as the exorcist made decent headway into charming the Fujiwaras into forgetting just how strange his presence there actually was.

Almost everything was settled.

“I’m going to take a walk, I’ll be back,” he announced, before slipping out the back. “Sensei? Can you gather everyone up?”

Nyanko-sensei huffed, but complied. Within minutes, yokai started appearing at the edge of the forest. Some were bashful (Natsume hoped Nyanko-sensei hadn’t done any undo scolding on his behalf) while others were just curious. Finally, Sensei came roaring back into the clearing in his white beast form, carrying a squirming Mujina in his mouth.

“Sensei! She’s not a _prisoner_!” Natsume scolded. Sensei rolled his eyes and unceremoniously dropped his passenger. “ _Sensei_!”                

“Natsume, are you angry with us?” asked a small voice. He looked down at the little Kappa, who was bashfully examining his webbed toes. Natsume bent down on one knee, so he could look the little yokai in the eye.

“No,” he said, smiling. “Not at all.” He patted the kappa on the head before straightening. “I’m not mad at anyone. I just wanted to tell everyone there was a little misunderstanding. I…” if his voice was a little rough, hopefully the yokai wouldn’t notice. “I appreciate what you did, all of you. But I’m OK now.”

“Then the humans are treating you right?” A voice from the crowd asked. Natsume nodded.

“It’s true that it wasn’t always like this,” he said. “But now I have many human friends. Though maybe…” he looked around at the assembled faces, and a feeling of warmth blossomed in his chest.

                “Maybe not as many as my yokai friends.”

                “OK, that’s enough,” Sensei declared, once again in his lucky cat form. “You heard him, so quit interfering! Especially those of you who _know better_ ,” he shot a meaningful look at the sky.

                “You simply cannot be trusted to adequately care for Natsume-dono, Madara,” Misuzu’s voice boomed. “And Natsume-dono cannot be trusted to care for himself.”

                “ _What_?!” Sensei shrieked, but other yokai were nodding.

                “Natsume lets the other humans push him around, instead of vaporizing them with his spiritual power…”

                “He doesn’t carry signs and sigils to keep evil spirits away…”

                “If Natsume was eaten our forest would be boring…”

                “We never had to worry about Reiko like this!”

                “Yes, be more like Reiko!”

                “But not _too_ much like Reiko…”

                Natsume held up his hands, asking for quiet. “I promise not to get pushed around or eaten,” he pledged. “And if I’m not doing a good job, you can come tell me about. Is that alright?”

                The gathered yokai murmured, then gave an affirmative. That was the only thing for it, really. They would just have to keep a close eye on this foolish human.

                “I’m afraid you all gave me so many wonderful things, I won’t be able to eat them before they go bad,” he said. “Would you like to stay for dinner…?”

* * *

 

                It was one of the stranger meals Natsume had ever sat through. As usual, his small family sat around the kitchen table while Nyanko-sensei scarfed down everything in his bowl. Natori-san was a welcome guest, and if one his shiki grabbed a piece of meat or vegetable to nibble delicately on, another soon appeared in its place. Yokai passed in and out of the house (just this one time, Natsume reminded them, sternly), to take or share food before returning to the numerous blankets spread out on the grass beneath the trees outside. Once, Natori almost choked when Misuzu’s giant eye blocked out the entire window, and Natsume had a hard time explaining to Toko-san why this made him giggle. He made her smile again when he managed to ask if there was daikon left over, and by taking a small second helping all on his own.

                And though he had promised to try, Natsume couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything more.

 

                                                                                                                                                 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The First Law by DarthNickels [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198233) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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